


Sparks

by ssstrychnine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Library, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 14:15:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3731941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssstrychnine/pseuds/ssstrychnine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus is a librarian at a university library and Sirius is a student with a lot of fines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sparks

On Monday, Remus Lupin wakes up at six o’clock. He is not a morning person, he has never been a morning person, but he wakes up at six every weekday and stands in the shower until he can open his eyes all the way. He does not speak until eight o’clock except to thank the bus driver. At eight o’clock he says good morning to Peter, one of his coworkers, and he opens the library. At eight o’clock he is almost knocked down by the blur of limbs and hair _waiting_ for him to open the library. At eight o’clock he meets the improbably named Sirius Black.

“I think I have some fines,” says Sirius Black, pushing an ID card across the desk.

Remus scans the card. He feels unable to look this person in the eye. This person who is shorter than him but just so...he has cheekbones, and _hair_ , and his smile is saying things like _I've never done a wrong thing in my life_ but it’s also saying things like _I've done more wrong things than you could ever imagine_. He is not a Library Person, Remus knows that right away, he is a spark to paper. He swallows, and looks at his computer screen, and his stomach drops. _Shit_.

“You have four hundred and eighty two pounds in fines,” he tells the ID card instead of the person.

“No I don’t,” Sirius laughs. “Library fines are, like, fifty p.”

“You...you still have these books out, they've been overdue for so long that our system has marked them lost. If you don’t return the books you’ll have to pay to replace them.” 

“What were the books?”

Remus clicks a few buttons, glances as the list that pops up. 

“Model programs for adolescent sexual health, um...runaway kids and teenage prostitution in America, counselling skills in social work practice...others...along that line.”

“Oh,” Sirius licks his lips. Remus tries not to stare. “ _Those_ books. Those books are gone.”

“I’m sorry?” 

“I have this...dog, right? And this dog...we’ll call him James, well he...”

“If you tell me your dog ate your homework I’m going to add ten pounds to your fines.” 

Sirius blinks, and then he smiles, wide and open and _overjoyed_. It’s like the sun breaking over waves, it is impossible to look at. Remus turns back to the computer screen. He should have just stuck to the line, he should definitely not have made a joke about five hundred pounds that he was definitely not going to waive because the guy who lost the books had a smile like a fucking solar flare. 

“Even if it’s true?” Mister Solar Flare asks, fluttering his eyelashes, and Remus decides he hates him because hating him will make all of this much easier.

“Have you lost the books?” 

“I know exactly where those books are,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “They are currently part of a large, papier mache sculpture in my mate’s living room.”

“Right,” Remus presses a thumb to his mouth for a moment to keep from maybe killing this person. “ _Right_.” 

“It’s not an ideal situation,” Sirius admits, rolling his eyes skyward. “I can sell you the sculpture if you’d like, it will cost you...four hundred and eighty two pounds, but it’s definitely worth it.” 

“What’s the sculpture of?” Remus asks, before he can stop himself.

“Uh,” Sirius frowns. “You’ll have to ask James that, he’s the artist, it’s just a load of paper and glue and wire to me.”

“No thanks,” Remus says mildly and Sirius shrugs like he’s being quite exceptionally stupid and his mate James is August Rodin reborn. Remus squares his shoulders and hardens his heart. “Until your fines are paid you will be unable to graduate,” he says.

Sirius is silent for a long time. Remus hates this part, the part where a student loses books or spills coffee on them and is suddenly hundreds of pounds in debt and with no qualification to show for it. He hates that the books necessary for a student should cost hundreds of pounds in the first place, on top of fees, on top of _living_. Occasionally he tries to balance it out by taking books home and scanning them and putting them online, but it takes forever and he really does love his job and he _really_ does need the money and is scared of losing it. _This person’s friend turned library books into papier mache_ , he reminds himself viciously, blocking the rest of it out, and he raises his eyes to Sirius’s, and he tries to look like he thinks a student’s plight is nothing when compared with books.

“Right,” says Sirius finally, looking slightly deflated. “Right. I’ll...I’ll be back.”

He slides his ID card off the desk, shoves it into his pocket, and is gone as rapidly as he arrived. Remus lets out a breath, pushes himself away from the desk, spins his chair around. _Sirius Black: book thief_ , he thinks idly, chewing on his lip. _Sirius Black: university dropout_. He won’t be back. 

 

On Tuesday, Sirius shows up at two in the afternoon. Remus is amongst the shelves, standing on a footstool, trying to find a book that isn't where it should be. He turns when he realises that someone else is walking up to him, and he freezes when he sees that it’s Sirius and that Sirius is carrying a large bunch of yellow gerbera. 

“Mister Librarian,” Sirius says breathily. “You look enchanting pressed up against the books like that.” 

Remus pulls away from the shelves a little, drops his hand from the shelf where he’d been keeping place. He doesn't step down from the stool, he is taller than Sirius anyway, but the drastic height difference makes him feel a little braver. He can’t remember the last time a guy brandished flowers at him. It has probably never happened. 

“Um,” he says. “What can I do for you?”

“What you should be asking, is what _I_ can do for _you_ ,” Sirius purrs, coming closer, cocking his head to one side.

“You can pay your fines,” Remus says, still firmly perched on his stool. “You can pay your fines instead of buying flowers.”

“These came from the garden in the park,” Sirius says, with deep satisfaction, and he holds them up to Remus. 

Remus takes them, because he’s ridiculous, and because Sirius is looking at him like a puppy. A puppy with the bone structure of a male model. Remus blinks, shakes his head a little, stares at the flowers instead. They are very yellow. Some of them still have roots attached, and clumps of dirt, from where they were pulled from the ground.

“If you think that giving me flowers will make me waive your fines, you’re wrong,” he says, warily, and he steps down from the stool. “I can’t waive your fines.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” he sighs. “I’m going to pay my fines and win your heart in the same breath.” 

“That’s...the winning my heart bit is not necessary.” 

“I suppose not,” Sirius wrinkles his nose. “Give me the flowers back then.”

“No,” Remus smiles. “These are mine.” 

 

On Wednesday, Remus is late for work. He sleeps through his alarm, dreaming of a dark haired boy with eyes that smile and a tongue like velvet. He dreams of pushing this boy to his knees and he wakes up hard and sweating and late for work. 

“You look like shit,” says Peter, helpfully, when he arrives at half past eight. “There’s someone waiting for you.”

“Is it an Asian guy with...with...’”

“Cheekbones like the Gods have? Yeah.” 

Remus rubs feverishly at his face, drags his fingers through his tangled hair, gulps down his tea so fast he scalds his throat. _I did not have a sex dream about Sirius Black_ , he tells himself, over and over, like a schoolboy reciting lines. _I did not have a sex dream about someone who disregards library property_. He leaves the back offices and heads out to the lending desk where Lily is staring at Sirius with open hostility.

“This is the papier mache boy, is it?” she asks Remus from the corner of her mouth.

“This is the papier mache boy,” he confirms in a low whisper. 

Sirius grins at them, Sirius walks over. Lily disappears in a whirl of red hair.

“I like your tattoos,” says Sirius in greeting and Remus flinches, just a little bit.

“Thank you,” he says warily. 

There was a time where he would have pulled his sleeves down at the compliment, covered them up at any word of acknowledgement, but he is older now, and braver. Maybe. The tattoos are of flowers, tiny clusters of forget-me-nots mixed in with black-eyed Susans. They are not in colour, they’re sketched in fine black lines, incredibly detailed, and they tangle about his wrists and up both arms to the elbow. They do not cover the scars, not totally, but they were never meant to.

“I can’t show you my tattoos, it wouldn't be appropriate,” Sirius says then, grinning wickedly and Remus tilts his chin to counter the blush he knows that is spreading across his cheeks.

“I’m not letting you off the fines,” he says, before Sirius can ask.

“I’m just here for the pleasure of your company,” Sirius protests, pressing a palm to his chest like he’s wounded. 

“No you’re not,” says Remus, but he’s smiling.

“Well, there’s also this,” says Sirius, and dramatically he swings his backpack off and drops it on the desk. He opens it and the smell of baking wafts out.

“Food isn't allowed in the library,” Remus says automatically.

“This place is like Hell,” Sirius laughs. “I’m sure that Mister Librarian himself is allowed to eat in the library.” 

Remus is quiet for a long time. He thinks he can smell chocolate. He _loves_ chocolate. (Sirius, on his knees, offering chocolate on open palms, and smiling like he knows exactly what...He bites hard at his lower lip, drums his fingers across the desk.

“I have lunch at one o’clock,” he says, finally, sure he will regret it. “Meet me outside by the drinking fountain, whatever is in your bag will not be eaten in the library.” 

“Spoilsport.” 

“ _And_ your fines will not be waived.” 

“You think this is a _bribe_? You’re slandering me.” 

“Please take your food outside.” 

“What’s your name?”

“Oh. I’m Remus.”

“I’ll see you later, Remus.”

Later, they eat triple chocolate cookies on the grass, in the sunshine, and Remus picks the petals off daisies and Sirius shows him one of his tattoos, a stick figure standing on the flat space behind his anklebone. It doesn't mean anything, none of his tattoos mean anything, he likes it better that way.

They talk easily and Remus’s break feels shorter than usual. He lingers a while, scuffing his shoes across the grass, tugging his sweater straight. Sirius runs his hands through his hair and he looks like someone made for sunshine in a t-shirt that’s just the right sort of tight and a hair tie around his wrist and his shoes slipped off and grass stains on the soles of his feet. Remus thinks he probably goes to the beach a lot. Remus thinks he probably _frolicks_. Remus thinks about the way water would look on his skin.

“Don’t put white chocolate in your cookies next time,” he says. “It’s not...it’s not chocolate.” 

“ _Next time_ ,” Sirius raises his eyebrows gleefully. “Your wish is my command.”

Remus nods, once, turns on his heel, and heads back to the library.

 

On Thursday, Remus spends the day twitching at shadows and looking over his shoulder and strolling from the lending desk to the shelves and back again, and Sirius doesn't show up. He checks Sirius’s account, looks at his name and the names of the lost books and the fine total, (and the ID picture, most secret of all, a younger Sirius with a squared jaw and a dog collar around his neck). He closes everything when he feels too weird, too invested, too much like the air before a lightning strike, and he runs frantic hands through frantic hair and chews frantic fingernails. 

“Your one with the cheekbones hasn't visited you today,” Peter says, so casually that Remus knows his disappointment has been spotted.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says unconvincingly. 

“Your papier mache boy is missing,” Lily says, later, not casually at all but with an arched eyebrow and her hands on her hips. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he repeats, and Lily laughs.

The yellow flowers wilt on his desk, perched haphazardly in a tall glass filled with water. Remus rubs at his tattoos with his licked thumb, like they are the pages of a book. Sirius will probably pay his fines online and never come in again, he decides, and he is _not_ upset about it.

 

On Friday, Sirius doesn't bring baking or flowers, he brings a large wad of cash. Remus is sitting at the front desk, drawing tightly wound spirals on scraps of paper and trying not to think of the work he is avoiding. The money dropping onto the counter in front of him startles him straight and he drops his pen and dives to retrieve it and he’s decidedly ruffled when he is finally able to look Sirius in the eye. 

“Your fines,” he says dumbly, after a long pause where Sirius is grinning and Remus is staring and trying to get his hair out of his eyes. 

“My _fines_ ,” Sirius says with a satisfied sigh. “Four hundred and eighty two pounds.” He drops a two pound coin on top of the pile of notes.

“That’s...impressive,” Remus says, rather breathlessly. “Is it all in five pound notes?” 

“No...no....well....yeah, actually, most of it.” 

“That’s _wonderful_ ,” Remus lies. “Did you spend yesterday panhandling?” 

“Why, did you miss me?” 

“Oh...oh no. Not at all.”

“He pined,” Lily says, walking past them toward the staff room. “I hope you’re here to get rid of the dead flowers on his desk.”

“You _pined_ ,” Sirius says gleefully. “I didn't panhandle, actually, I sold my body.”

“Five pounds a throw?”

“Can you afford it?” 

Remus blushes, and hates himself for blushing, and quickly gathers up the notes with both hands, counting them out into fifty pound piles. Its all there, seventy six five pound notes, two fifty pound notes, and a two pound coin. No one ever pays fines this big in paper money. Remus is not certain it will all fit in the till. 

“I got some of it from my brother,” Sirius says, making Remus jump, making Remus scatter several of his little piles. “Some of it came from inside James’s couch, which eats money. I rescued five pounds from his new sculpture because he went a bit mad and started sticking money to it.” 

“That’ll be the one covered in glue, then.” 

“That’s right,” Sirius prods at the stiff banknote gingerly. “The rest came from illicit sources that I am unable to mention at this point in time.”

“Oh, of course.” 

There is a silence then and Remus fills it by gathering the money back up and going to the till. It does fit, spread out a bit, though it is sure to irritate Peter when he does the banking. Peter likes it when everything is neat and straight and none of the bills have glue on them. Sirius watches him as he does this and he is uncomfortably aware of it. He stumbles on an untied shoelace, he tugs at pieces of his hair, he rubs his tattoos through the arms of his sweater. He feels fifteen with a perpetual blush and chapped lips, just learning what queer is. As soon as he returns to the desk, he will take the fines off Sirius’s account, and this will be done. He will be twenty six and he will never blush again. He slows down, he breathes carefully. 

“So, your fines are gone,” he says, when he’s back and it’s clear. 

“I can graduate.” 

“Yeah...yes, you can. Um...assuming you...pass...the university part of it.” 

Sirius smiles, all crinkled eyes and an eyebrow slightly raised and his tongue pressed between his teeth. Remus’s breath catches somewhere under his ribs, he clasps his hands in front of him, unclasps them, tugs at the cuff of his sweater. Sirius is still smiling.

“And will you go out with me?”

“I...what?” 

“Go out with me. I would have asked you way back on Monday, probably, but I didn't think any self-respecting librarian would hang about with someone who had library fines.”

“Well...that’s true,” Remus says, relaxing slightly, allowing himself to smile. He isn't going anywhere, his fines are clear and he hasn't disappeared into smoke. This is _allowed_. “And you did have quite an extraordinary amount of fines.”

“I’m quite an extraordinary sort of guy,” Sirius says airily, and he leans forwards, rests his elbows on the desk. His hair falls across his eyes, he bites gently at the pad of his thumb, looks up at Remus through his eyelashes.

“I think you’re ridiculous,” Remus says, though he is having a little trouble breathing.

Sirius’s expression collapses from seduction into a goofy sort of grin and he straightens, shakes his hair back, takes his fingers from his mouth.

“Is that a yes, Remus Librarian?” 

“That’s a yes, Sirius Black.”

“Oh good, you know my name,” Sirius laughs. Then he fumbles in his pocket for a moment, produces a phone, hands it to Remus. “Put your number on here and I will call you tomorrow and take you to a waterfall.” 

Remus does as he’s asked. He enters his name as Remus Librarian and Sirius smiles, and smiles, and smiles.

 

On Saturday, Sirius takes Remus to a waterfall. On Saturday, Remus kisses the spray from Sirius’s lips. On Saturday, they eat cookies with only dark and milk chocolate in them. On Saturday, Remus rides on the back of a motorbike with his arms wrapped around Sirius’s waist. On Saturday, they are gone for the whole day and Remus keeps his arms bare and Sirius shows him the scribbled tattoo of a star with too many points under his left collarbone, in the hollow where his shoulder meets his chest. It was drawn by his brother, aged seven and a half, a long time ago, and maybe it means something. Maybe. 

On Saturday, they trip passed all their unknown dark edges into something warm and bright, and on Sunday, they keep going.

**Author's Note:**

> This is me, this is my life, I am Remus-Lupin-university-librarian. Well. I am a university librarian anyway. Write what you know, right? I wanted to write fluff because likewise variable didn't turn out to be as fluffy as I anticipated and these kids deserve good things. Also, my default fancast for them is dane dehaan for remus and young, long-haired takeshi kaneshiro for sirius but ymmv


End file.
